Neal, Kneel
by imbloodycrowley
Summary: "Peter, are you alright?" Neal's voice was that of genuine concern. 'You shouldn't be concerned for me.' Peter thought, swallowing thickly before he spoke. "Neal, come here." Work in progress! Neal and Peter are kidnapped by Keller, and Peter is forced to hurt Neal in order to protect his wife. Read to find out. If you do, please be kind and leave a review!
1. Keller

**So, for once I'm not planning on this being a one-shot. I adore hurt!Neal (of course, who doesn't?) so here's another white collar story. Warnings for physical and emotional abuse.**

 _"Neal?" Peter called, gun drawn as he turned another corner of the dark, abandoned hospital. Damn! Where had he gone? Peter had been in the van, listening in on Neal's conversation with Keller when the line had gone dead. Had they found the wire on Neal? Surely not. They had hidden it well… Peter finally went in after him after an hour of waiting, ordering Jones and Diana to call for backup and wait there for his signal. As he turned another corner, suddenly he was grabbed from behind, a wet rag held over his nose and mouth. Before he could make a noise, he was out…_

Peter blinked his eyes open, letting out a quiet groan. He went to reach up and rub at his eyes, only to find his hands bound behind his back. He glanced around the dark room; there wasn't much to it—a window, but that was covered with a black sheet. Just as he started to look for some way to free his hands, the door was opened.

"Oh, good! Peter, you're awake." Keller walked in, a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. Peter had to hold back a groan. _Armed. Always armed._

"Listen, agent Burke. Me and you need to have a chat." Keller grabbed a chair, turning it as he carried it over to sit in front of Peter, straddling the back of the chair.

"Where is Neal?" Peter growled, starting to have some trouble containing his anger. He hated how Keller always treated situations like these as a joke—situations that people's lives depended on.

"If you would listen, _Agent_ , that was just what I was going to talk to you about."

Peter forced himself to be quiet. No matter how much he hated Keller, he had to do whatever he needed to in order to make sure Neal was unharmed… if he wasn't already. _No,_ Peter forced that thought from his head. Neal was going to be just fine. They both were.

"See, I'm needing some help here, Agent Burke. And I think you're just the man for the job." Keller continued. "I need Neal to trust me. And unfortunately for me, his trust is a hard thing to earn. You probably know a thing or two about that though, don't you?"

Peter was silent. He was slowly becoming less enraged and more worried. Where was Keller going with this? After waiting a moment for a response and receiving none, Keller started again.

"Anyways, you're going to get to see him. Right after we're done talking, if you'd like."

Peter couldn't help the small amount of hope he felt at that. But, there had to be some sort of catch…

"What I need from you, Peter, is some assistance in helping me earn his trust. To do that, though, I'm going to need you to break the trust he has in you."

Peter tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as he met Keller's gaze. What was he getting at?

"You're gonna go in, all superior and Agent-like, and you're gonna remind him who's the boss between the two of you. I don't care what he does—you make it into something you can punish him for. He talks without being spoken to? You punish him. He tries to defend himself? You punish him some more. Today's just the start, though. So what I want you to do is go in there, have him kneel in front of you while you talk to him. Explain to him you're gonna be training him, and then rough him up a little, just to give him a taste. Put that belt of yours to some good use. After that, I go in and fix him up, ask if he's alright, the usual hero stuff."

Peter sat in silence for a long moment, his eye's locked on Keller's, his lips pursed. When Keller leaned in closer, he took the opportunity to spit in his face. He was rewarded with a backhand to the left side of his face for that. Spitting the blood onto his lap, he decided it had been worth it. "Neal's smarter than that, Keller. He's gonna know this is all part of your little game, no matter how convincing I am."

"Maybe at first, Burke." Keller was still wiping his face with his sleeve. "He'll wear down, though. Eventually, after days on end of this happening over and over, I guarantee its gonna get in that brilliant mind of his that you detest him. He'll have no choice. As far as he knows, the options are prison, you, or me. And after you're done with him? You wont even have to worry about a rescue team, Agent Burke. I'm gonna have him clinging to me like a little, lost puppy."

"Yea? And what if I say no, huh? What, you'll punish me like you want me to do to him? I'm not scared of you, Keller. There's nothing you can do—" Peter trailed off as Keller stood to go to the corner of the room, pulling off a sheet to reveal a television. He turned it on, and Peter's heart stopped. _El._ There she was, cooking dinner. Unaware that anything at all was wrong. Satchmo trotted over to lick her hand, receiving a small piece of chicken as a reward. "But don't tell your dad." El said, patting the dog's head.

"Got guys right outside your house, Burke. You didn't think I'd know you'd need a little incentive? I say the word, and they move in on your little lady there. Otherwise, you do as I say, and no harm comes to her."

Peter stared in the direction of the TV, even after Keller had turned it off and returned to stand in front of him. "You— _bastard_!" He could no longer control his temper, and leaned forward to spit in Keller's face once more. Since he was physically incapable of harming him at the moment, spitting seemed to be the next best thing. He involuntarily flinched when Keller raised his hand to backhand him again, but the blow never came. Keller slowly lowered his hand, shaking his head. "I'm feeling nice, Burke. Don't make me regret it. No. More. Spitting."

Peter shifted in his chair, locking eyes with Keller and staring him down, once again. "You touch my wife, and I swear to god it'll be the last thing you ever do."

"You do as I say, and neither of us have to worry. How's that for a deal, huh? Come on, Peter." Keller went around the back of his chair, clipping the zip ties that held his arms, then moving back to the front to do the same to his legs. "Neal's waiting."

Two men that had apparently been waiting outside the door came in, pulling Peter up from the chair before he had the chance to stand. One blindfolded him as the other held him there, and then he was being escorted down a hallway. He stumbled once or twice, but as he was practically being dragged, it didn't matter much. When they finally stopped, his blindfold was removed. He was standing in front of a door. One man reached over with a key to unlock it. When he turned to look at the oversized man, he only received a nod in response. "Go in."

Peter slowly placed his hand on the doorknob, turning it and pushing the door open. When he stepped inside, he was more than surprised to see Neal relatively unharmed. His lip was bleeding and his hair disheveled, but besides that he seemed fine.

"Peter." Neal stood from bed—no, more like a cot, Peter decided—but didn't make a move towards him, like he was unsure of what to do. "Peter, are you alright?" Neal's voice was that of genuine concern. _You shouldn't be concerned for me_. Peter thought, swallowing thickly before he spoke. "Neal, come here."

 **J I'm quite satisfied with this first chapter! Please do continue if you'd like for me to continue, reviews are what give me the encouragement to continue. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Kneel

**kneel**

nēl/

 _verb_

be in or assume a position in which the body is supported by a knee or the knees, as when praying or showing submission.

 **Neal** (Neil)

is a surname and a masculine given name of Gaelic origin. The name is an Anglicisation of the Gaelic Niall which is of disputed derivation. The Gaelic name may be derived from words meaning "cloud", "passionate", or "champion".

 _"Peter." Neal stood from bed—no, more like a cot, Peter decided—but didn't make a move towards him, like he was unsure of what to do. "Peter, are you alright?" Neal's voice was that of genuine concern. 'You shouldn't be concerned for me.' Peter thought, swallowing thickly before he spoke. "Neal, come here."_

Neal slowly walked towards Peter, practicing caution. He wasn't sure if Peter was hurt, or if Keller was right outside the door, or what. "Peter, are you alright?" He repeated, doing a once-over on the agent. He seemed fine, relatively unharmed.. a bruise was starting to form over his left cheek, but besides that.

Peter noticed Neal trying to make eye contact as he approached, looking for some sort of clue as to what was going on. Knowing he couldn't bring himself to meet Neal's eyes at the moment, he did a quick sweep of the room. He noticed a camera up in the corner of the room and wondered if it had audio on it. If only he could let Neal know what was going on, to warn him somehow. But then, if somehow Keller found out… _El._

As soon as Neal was standing in front of him, Peter forced himself to meet the younger man's eyes. "Kneel."

"What?" Neal searched Peter's eyes, and Peter swore he could read his thoughts at the moment. _I'm here. What is it?_ Peter realized at that moment two things. He hadn't been very clear with his command, and _Neal_ sounded exactly like _kneel_.

"No," Peter corrected him, placing a hand on his shoulder, slowly guiding him crouch on the ground in front of him. Neal resisted, but only minimally. "Not _Neal_. _Kneel_."

Neal was only in the position for a moment before he went to stand back up, rising to his feet again. "Peter, I don't under—" His sentence was cut off with a backhand to his face. It took him a moment to process that it was Peter who'd done it, even though he was the only other one in the room.

They locked eyes again, and Neal could see the hurt, the desperation. Peter gave him only the slightest shake of his head. _No. Don't resist me. Don't make me hurt you more than I have to. Please._

"Kneel." Peter repeated again, doing his best to make his gaze hard, intimidating. It wasn't working. Neal wasn't scared of him, why would he be? He had never given him a reason to be. But now…

Neal remained standing, trying to gauge Peter's reaction. He was testing the waters, and Peter knew it. _Damn his childlike instinct to always push the limits and test his luck until it ran out._

"I said, kneel." Peter repeated, through clenched teeth.

"You did. You weren't explicitly clear, though. Were you saying my name, or—" Neal got another backhand to the face, and quickly crouched down. "Got it, got it. _Kneel_."

"Stop treating this as a joke, Neal." Peter commanded, looking down at his CI. Didn't Neal understand it was killing him to do this? Maybe that was Neal's way of trying to make him feel better for it. It wasn't working. "You're going to start listening and doing as you're told, Neal. I'm going to make sure of that. It seems to me like you're needing a reminder of where we stand. I'm in charge. We are _not_ equals. Do you get that? I can send you back to prison with the snap of my fingers. You're going to start respecting me. Do you understand?"

Neal was silent. Peter waited for a minute, two minutes… silence.

"Do you understand me? Look at me when I speak to you."

Neal glanced up at Peter, wiping some blood from his lip. Still, no response. He quickly held the hand up in a defensive position when Peter raised his hand again in a threatening manner, ready to block the blow.

"Answer me." Peter growled, leaning down so that his face was inches from Neal's. That was a mistake. Neal's gaze was soft, pleading. _Stop. Why are you doing this? I don't understand._

Peter slowly stood back up, straightening his back. He turned his back to Neal and closed his eyes, doing his best to prepare himself for what he was about to do _. El_. He told himself _. El, El. Protect Elizabeth. Neal will understand, eventually…_

He reached for the buckle of his belt, slowly undoing it. He slipped it through the loops, forcing himself to open his eyes as he turned around, doubling it over in his hands as he did so. As soon as he turned, he regretted opening his eyes at all. Neal was staring up at him, his blue eyes impossibly wide. "Peter?" he breathed, his eyes moving to the piece of leather Peter was holding. "I'll behave." He quickly decided, resisting the urge to move backwards, to put some distance between them. "Don't hit me with it, Peter. I'll behave."

"I gave you plenty of chances." Neal thought he saw Peter's lower lip quiver as he spoke, but then.. maybe he'd imagined it.

"Keep your head down, I don't want to hit it by mistake." Peter spoke again, his voice breaking as he placed a hand in Neal's hair, pushing his head down. He tried not to feel guilty for the relief he felt without those pleading blue eyes staring into his.

"Stay still and it won't be bad. Try to get away and when I catch you I'll double it."

"I understand, Peter." _I understand. I understand that you have to do this. I understand that you don't want to hurt me._

Neal kept his head ducked out of the way, Peter could see his breathing quicken by the way his shoulders subtly rose and fell.

"Peter, how many times will you hit me with it?" Neal's voice was muffled.

Before Neal could build up more any more anticipation Peter brought the belt down once, twice, three times. He made sure not to hit the same spot twice, landing two on his back and one closer to his ass. "There." He choked out, stopping to collect himself before he spoke again. "Next time make it easier on yourself, and obey the first time."

No sooner had Neal sat up, dark hair falling into his wide blue eyes, than Peter had turned, going for the door. It was unlocked, thankfully, because he was barely out before he was sick all over the floor.

 **Wow! Thank you guys for all of the reviews! It really does encourage me and make me want to write more! Thoughts on this chapter? Should I continue? Please review! Thanks again!**


	3. Peter

Not long after Peter left the room, the door was opened again. Neal stayed on the bed, legs folded beneath him. Despite the abuse he'd just received, he was disappointed when he saw it wasn't Peter coming in.

"Heya, buddy."

"Fuck off, Keller." Neal glanced the other direction, refusing to look at the other man.

"Come on, Caffrey. I just came in to check on you. I have a camera in here, you know. I saw what Peter did."

"What you made him do." Neal corrected, turning to look Keller in the eye. "What you _forced_ him to do."

"Neal, I'm sorry to say I don't know what you're talking about. All I told Burke was that he could have a minute with you. I told him to do what he wanted with his time. I didn't force him to do anything. I know you'd like to believe that. It's easier to believe, isn't it? That I made him do those things to you—to _say_ those things to you. That was Peter's decision, Neal. All of it was real."

"No." Neal shook his head, glancing away again. "Why don't you stop playing your game and just leave me alone."

"I saw what he did to you, kiddo." Keller tried a different approach, reaching over to rub at Neal's back. "You sore?"

"Keller, I said **_fuck off_**!" Neal stood, spinning around so he could face Keller. His dark hair fell into his face with how hard he shook his head. "You _made_ Peter do those things to me. All the time I've known him, he's never so much as hit me. No matter how much I pushed him, or pissed him off. And believe me when I say I _know_ how to push his buttons.. You can't expect me to believe he'd just come in here and do that to me. If you do, I'm insulted that you think I'd be so utterly _stupid._ Even if you'd threatened Peter with torture, he wouldn't have given in. It had to be El, it _had_ to. So help me, Keller, if you hurt her—"

"Woah, woah, calm down, Neal. You're gonna hurt yourself." Keller stood as well, starting towards Neal, which only made him back up some more. "I would never hurt the Misses. She stays out of this, alright? That's a line I wouldn't cross. Maybe you just need to accept that Peter doesn't want you around, buddy. No matter how hard that is for you to come to terms with."

They stood there after Keller spoke, both trying to gauge the other, before Neal finally broke the silence. "I'm done talking to you. Get out, please. Just leave me alone. And if you want to give Peter a message for me, tell him I'm sorry that we're in this mess. It's my fault for ever even knowing _you_."

"Sorry to hear you feel that way, Caffrey. I'll pass on the message, though. Chat with you later, yea?" Keller said as he headed for the door. Neal could hear him lock it behind himself. He went to go and sit back down on the bed once he was gone, Keller's words still replaying over and over in his mind: _"That was Peter's decision, Neal. All of it was real."_ No. It couldn't be real. It wasn't. Neal was sure of it. Peter would never, ever do that to him if he had a choice… Would he?

When Peter was returned to his room, Keller was already gone. Gone to take on the role of comforting Neal, Peter assumed. He still felt sick to his stomach. When he was tossed back in the room, he'd gone over to the corner and dry heaved, but it seemed he'd already emptied the contents of his stomach earlier. Surely Neal knew he had to do this. Neal was smarter than that. That still didn't make him hate himself for what he'd done any less. The look Neal had given him… there was too much trust there. But Peter had seen something else, too. Something he wanted to pretend he hadn't seen, but couldn't deny—fear. There was undeniable fear, if only for a brief moment. He'd caused that fear, and that was what was making him so sick. Sure, he'd been forced into it, but he had still hurt his friend. If—no, _when_ they got out of this mess, he could only hope Neal would eventually be able to forgive him, and maybe someday even trust him again. Maybe.

 **So I know this chapter was pretty short, but I just need to get these in here so its easier to tell what's going on in everyone's head so you, as the readers, aren't having to play a guessing game. Again, thank you SO much for the reviews. If you enjoyed this chapter and would like me to continue, please keep it up! Thanks again, friends!**


	4. Neal

"We need to move in. There's something wrong." It had been 6 hours of waiting in that god-awful van, and Diana was getting antsy.

"Peter said to wait for his signal." Jones pointed out, leaning back in his chair. "I want to get out of the van as much as you, Diana. If not more."

"Something's gone wrong." Diana was certain. She had the gut feeling, and she just _knew_ something wasn't right.

"If something is wrong, if we move in we could get Peter killed. Neal, too. If he's not already…" Jones trailed off. The thought made him feel sick, and he'd rather not add the smell of vomit to the already smelly van.

"I'm calling for backup." Diana said, reaching for her phone.

Peter jolted into consciousness as Keller tossed open the door, stomping into the room. _When did I fall asleep?_

"Nice nap? You've been asleep for what.." Keller looked at his watch. "About four hours. That was weak, Peter." The man shook his head disapprovingly, hands on his hips. "You went easy on him; he's not buying this."

"Your plan was over before it started, Keller. Neal's not going to buy this no matter how much I sell it. Neal _trusts_ me." Peter rubbed at his eyes, trying to wake up.

"And that's just the problem, isn't it agent Burke? It took work to gain that trust too, I'll bet. It's going to take time to break it. But we've got all the time in the world." Keller moved closer as he spoke, placing a hand on Peter's arm. "Maybe you need some encouragement, yea? Something to get your blood flowing? Maybe I need to show you I'll make good on my threat, huh? Actually, I think I'll do that right now."

Before Peter could stop him, Keller was taking out his phone, dialing a number before holding it up to his ear. "Yea, I need you to go ahead and move in on misses Burke—"

" **No!** No, Keller—I'll do it, I'll make Neal believe it." Peter couldn't say the words fast enough. "I'll do it, I swear."

"Ah, that's what I thought. In that case, nevermind. Leave the lady alone." Keller ordered into the phone, before putting it away. "See? All you needed was a little encouragement. Find it in you, Burke. Else I'll demonstrate for you just what you need to do, except I'll use Elizabeth as our example, and you can sit and watch." He said, gesturing towards the television in the corner.

Peter had to physically restrain himself, lest he lunge at Keller and strangle him as he so badly wanted to do. "If you touch her, you son of a bitch, I swear to god—"

"Lets not let it get to that then, ay? Just do as you're told. Behave like a good agent, and we wont have an issue. Now, lets focus on Neal, shall we? You need to be far more demeaning than you were. Talk down to him, like he's your dog. No, wait, I take that back. I'm sure you're probably one of those people that's really nice to your dog, aren't you? Treat him as if he's _lower_ than the dog. And what do you do when you're training your dog? You lay out rules, am I right? Give him rules, but make them so he's bound to break them. And then when he does, you discipline him for it. If you don't impress me this time Peter, I'm going to have to let loose my hounds on your wife, so to speak."

"Stop. I'm going." Peter spoke through clenched teeth. God, how he wanted to pound Keller into the ground right now. He needed to let Diana and Jones know to go to Elizabeth. He needed to let Neal know what was going on. He wasn't sure if he could look into those sad blue eyes again… but he had to. He didn't have a choice, did he? He waited as Keller signaled his henchmen, who came in and blindfolded him again before heading down the hallway once more.

The two muscle men opened up the door for Peter, pulling off his blindfold and giving him a good shove into the room for good measure. Peter caught himself before he tripped and fell, but just barely.

He didn't have to search long before he spotted Neal, curled up on his pathetic excuse for bed. He seemed comfortable enough, and it was then that Peter realized the bed couldn't be much different from the one Neal had slept on in prison. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. If he was more psychologically abusive towards Neal, he could save him from being hurt as much. But then, the physical scars would heal, but the emotional ones may never go away.

Ultimately, Peter decided to find an in-between, and yet still somehow try to work out some way of getting them out of this. The only reason he'd yet to attempt grabbing Neal and bailing was the fact that he was certain as soon as he did, Keller would call his men and have them move in on El. _El. Oh, god, I'm so sorry. It's going to be alright, I swear to you._

Taking a breath, Peter steeled himself before making his way over to the bed where Neal slept. Reaching over to put a hand in Neal's hair, he couldn't resist giving one gentle, calming stroke first. Perhaps it was to comfort himself more so than for Neal, as he was asleep and unaware of what was happening. Even so, he seemed to nod his head against the touch appreciatively, even while unconscious.

 _Lower than the dog._

Putting his hand through Neal's hair again, this time Peter gripped a handful of the dark strands, earning a surprised yelp as Neal was abruptly woken by the sudden discomfort. Peter kept his grip, pulling towards himself as Neal helplessly tried to push himself up, finally falling off the bed as a result. '

Peter released his hold, taking a step back and allowing Neal to take in what was happening before he spoke. He pointed a finger at the poor, confused man on the floor accusingly. "You stay off the furniture. Do you understand me?"

Neal was still catching his breath, that hurt, desperate look on his face again. "Peter? What—why—"

Peter knelt down, allowing himself to be eye level with Neal. "You don't get to ask questions. What you _do_ get to do, is answer questions when you're asked. Let's try that again. _Do you understand me_?"

Neal reached up, placing a hand on his head where Peter had grabbed his hair, rubbing at it gently. "God, that hurt."

 ** _"I said, 'Do you understand me?"_**

 ****This time Peter raised his voice, and Neal jumped. He had to collect his thoughts enough that he was able to respond. "I do, I understand. I understand, Peter. I'm not allowed on the furniture. And not allowed to ask questions." This was all a bit much for Neal. He knew Keller was behind all of this, he did. But to have Peter speak to him in this way, to raise his voice like that, and to _hit_ him—it threw him off more than he cared to admit.

Maybe, even if it was deep down, Peter _meant_ those things that he said, and it felt good for him to have this release. After all, Neal had pushed him, and pushed him. Always testing his luck, seeing what he could get away with. Surely, it was enough to drive someone crazy. But Peter was different. He'd been certain of that. More often than not, Peter seemed amused rather than annoyed. Sure, he was definitely put out at times, but Neal hadn't ever sensed anything like this before.

"That's better." Said Peter, taking in a breath. "Now, lets talk about some ground rules. You love to lie, and you love to steal, don't you Neal? So from now on, lets make it a rule that if you lie to me—or to anyone else—you're going to hold out your palms for me, and for each lie, I'm going to strap you twice. And for every time you steal, it'll be three. Am I clear?"

Neal nodded; he really seemed like he was intently listening now, which made Peter feel worse. "So how many is that?" Peter asked, reaching to unbuckle his belt. "For every time since we started working together, Neal, how many times have you lied, and how many times have you stolen?"

Peter could feel Neal's eyes on him, and when he looked back down Neal's face had paled quite a bit. " _What_?" The word came out quieter than Neal had intended, but he couldn't seem to mask the shock.

"I don't like to repeat myself, Neal. I'd like an answer."

"Um, a—a lot. A lot of times. I don't know how many." Was Peter really going to hit him for every time he'd lied or stolen since he'd known him?

"That was an honest answer. You're learning; good. Since you don't remember, though, and I'm certain I don't, we're going to say twenty, today. And from now on, every time you lie, or you steal, this is what we're going to do. You come to me and present your hands, and we'll deal with it." Peter did his voice to keep his voice steady; he felt exhausted and drained by all of this, and now he had to avoid Neal's gaze, or he could feel his façade start to break.

"But if I find out you've done either of those things and not come to me," he continued, pushing through. "I'll beat the shit out of you, and _then_ I'll strap your hands. Clear?"

When he didn't hear an answer, he forced himself to look down at Neal again, who was nodding his head. The glossiness in his eyes hadn't been there before, and Peter was certain that if Neal actually started to cry, he would too. If he could just get this over with, he could go. "Good. Now, give me your hands."

Neal shifted his position, so that he was resting on his knees rather than sprawled out awkwardly on the floor from being pulled off the bed. He held out both hands, palms facing upward. Peter tried to ignore the fact that Neal's hands were shaking ever so slightly; tried to convince himself he'd imagined it.

 _"I'm going to get you out of this, I just have to know El is safe, first."_

Neal glanced up to look at Peter. It had been so quiet he'd almost missed it—had he imagined it? No, he decided he'd heard Peter say it. And that made him feel better, it really did. And the fact that Peter wouldn't hardly look at him told him that he really did feel guilty for doing this. Unless— _maybe he's so fed up with me, he doesn't want to see me?_ Neal certainly hoped not. He'd ride out this strapping and from now on behave just as Peter told him too, and _only_ as Peter told him to. He tried not to flinch as Peter placed the folded belt across his palms.

Neal jumped at the first strike, but managed to keep his hands in place. After the second one he started to count on his head, doing his best just to keep himself from pulling his hands out of the way.

He did his best not to be dramatic or make any noise; he did—but it was really starting to grow unbearable. A quiet whimper at the seventh blow, a muffled yelp at the thirteenth. God, why did he have to be so _bad_? If he hadn't lied and stolen all of those times, Peter wouldn't even have to do this in the first place!

At seventeen, something happened as Peter raised up the belt again; Neal knew he couldn't take any more without starting to be more vocal about it, and suddenly pulled his hands out of the way right as Peter brought down the offending piece of leather, instead causing the stripe to land across Neal's legs because of the way he knelt.

Neal couldn't help a surprised yelp as he reached to rub at his legs; it felt good on his hands, too. He stared up at Peter, waiting for some angry reaction. Instead, the look he saw was just tired, sad. Peter looked like he might cry. _He's probably so frustrated with me now._

He didn't have to be told, he held out his hands again and pressed his lips together tightly as he received his last three blows.

"I'm sorry, Peter." Neal spoke as soon as it was over, his tone sincere.

Peter reached over to place a hand in his hair again, and for a moment Neal tensed, half-expecting to be dragged across the room this time. But when he opened his eyes, he only saw a flash of that sad face again before Peter had turned, and was gone out the door without a word.

 **Alright guys, so this chapter was SUPER long. Anyways, I decided the only way Neal was ever really going to start to fear Peter was if Keller made good on his threat to hurt El, or bluffed as if he was going to, in order to really make Peter do what he had to do. So anyways, please, please, please review and give me your input! I'm glad you all are liking the story so far next chapter will have more Diana & Jones, as well as El ****J**


	5. El

El stretched her arms above her head, feeling the warm water of the shower run over her. It was nice. Her phone sat right next to the door of the shower, just in case Peter was to call. He had said not to expect him back until morning, but how could she possibly not worry about him. It was her job.

Her train of thought was broken when she heard Satchmo start barking in the living room. Someone must be at the door. _But.. This late?_ It was nearly two in the morning, and she was only awake because she'd tried waiting up for Peter and getting caught up in the book she was reading. _Besides, it's Saturday, anyways._

Shutting off the water, El stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, quickly drying herself before wrapping it around herself, slowly walking towards the living room, where the barking had quieted. "Hello?" She could hear noise in the kitchen, and Satchmo was nowhere to be seen.

Peter would be so upset with her if he'd known she walked into the kitchen without first getting the gun they kept away in a drawer, but Peter didn't need to know everything, now did he? Peeking her head into the kitchen, she found Mozzie with a bottle opener, cracking open an unopened bottle of wine. "Mozzie!"

"Oh—misses suit! You're—" Mozzie turned to face her, only to quickly avert his eyes. "Not dressed!" He finished, his eyes wide.

"Mozzie, what are you even doing here in the middle of the night?!" El had already turned, and was going back to the bedroom to retrieve some clothes.

"I thought you could use some company!" He called after her, searching the cupboard for some wine glasses.

When El returned, she was on the phone with someone. "I just don't see why its necessary for you to send agents over here, Diana. What's going on? Is Peter alright?"

Mozzie sat down the wine glasses, filling the two of them before putting the bottle away while Elizabeth finished up her conversation, putting away the phone. "What was that about?"

"Diana was sort of vague, but she said Neal and Peter might be unable to get out of the building they're in right now. It sounded sort of like Diana didn't have all the details together either, though. So I guess they're sending some agents over here for extra protection. I told her it wasn't necessary, but she insisted.."

"Great, I just got here, and now the place is about to be crawling with suits." Mozzie complained, offering out her glass of wine for her.

"You can go, Mozzie. I'll be fine with them here." El took a sip of her wine. The paler shade she'd taken on since the phone call told Mozzie that she knew something was wrong. He felt it too, but didn't feel like it was the right time to voice his concerns. As much as he hated the idea of feds hanging around so—so _closely,_ his concern for El won out by far.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather stay here and watch reruns of _Keeping up with the Kardashians_ with you and Satchmo." He was already making his way towards the living room. El couldn't help a small smile as she followed after him.

Diana crawled back into the van, closing the door behind her. "Backup is on the way, and I called Elizabeth."

"How was she?" Jones asked, taking a sip of his now-room-temperature-coffee.

"She seemed alright. Obviously upset, but I tried not to be too specific. I don't want to unnecessarily freak her out. I'm hoping once we get some backup here we can just storm the place. It's just about figuring out when and how we need to do that. Going in at the wrong time.. we could get them killed."

Jones could only nod his head in silent agreement. Diana had a way of doing that—saying what he was thinking, but couldn't find the words to voice. They both knew it was true, but somehow her speaking the words made it more of a reality to him. He could only wonder what was going on beyond the walls of the building right in front of them.

Peter wasn't sure how long he'd been back in the room. Maybe ten minutes. Maybe two hours. He'd been staring at the wall in silence since he'd been dropped back off into the room. What did it matter how long it had been? He hated, _hated_ what he had just done. And it was getting harder and harder for him to tell himself he was doing it for the right reason. Although he was, _of course_ he was, but the way Neal had looked at him… the guilt was eating him up, and he couldn't help starting to hate _himself_ for causing that pain, forced or not. If Neal could just hold on a little longer, he'd figure something out, he'd get them out of this. Or Diana would, or Jones. _But, how long can we play this game before the damage is too great to ever fixed? How long before Neal can't take anymore?_

 **So, APOLOGIES for taking much later to update this time, friends! Thank you SOO much for the positive feedback, it keeps me going! I'm going to try and update quicker next time, so keep the reviews coming! There will be much more Peter and Neal in the next chapter. 3**


	6. Acceptance

Neal wasn't sure where he was being taken—he wasn't even sure _why._ Since he'd been here, he'd been confined to the small room that Keller had decided was his. Now he'd been dragged up from the floor where he slept and blindfolded, and was currently being escorted down what he assumed was a hallway, as it seemed to stretch much further than a room would. He wasn't sure who was dragging him down the hall, either. It wasn't Peter—it didn't _feel_ like Peter. Peter's palms weren't so rough, and his hands weren't so big. At least this person hadn't woken him by pulling him up by the hair. His head was still tender from when Peter had done so. Maybe that's where he was being taken—to Peter. But—he hadn't done anything worth punishing. He'd stayed off the furniture, and he definitely hadn't lied or stolen since he last saw him. _Oh, well. Even if I do end up getting in trouble, it's nice to be out of that room._

Neal could hear a door being opened, just before he was guided through what seemed like a doorway. He could tell it was more narrow by the way the hands guided him. "Peter?"

"Yea, Neal. I'm here." Answered a voice from across the room. So he _was_ brought to Peter. He wasn't sure he cared what the reason was. It was still somehow a relief.

He was moved in the direction the voice had come from, and when he was stopped he assumed he was in front of Peter. It was a bit of a challenge to get down on his knees while he was blindfolded, but he managed to do so. He wanted to please Peter so badly. He didn't want there to be any reason for Peter to punish him. He could be _good_ , and he wanted nothing more at this moment than to prove that.

"Neal? Have you behaved?" Peter's voice sounded shaky. He wanted to take off his blindfold, but didn't dare do so without being given explicit instructions to do so. What if that upset Peter? He hated the idea of that, and he _definitely_ didn't want another strapping.

"I have." He answered, offering out both hands, palms up, in case Peter decided that was a lie. He really had been good, but perhaps he'd done something wrong by mistake. He didn't see how he could've, though. He'd been so careful!

"Did you stay off the furniture? Don't lie to me."

"I did. I really did, Peter. I slept on the floor." Neal held his breath, waiting to hear Peter unbuckle his belt. It was the truth, but should Peter believe him? He was a con artist, for god's sake! Though he'd been expecting it, he couldn't help the soft noise of dismay he made when he heard the soft hiss of Peter pulling his belt off, through the loops.

"I'm not lying to you, I stayed off of it, Peter." He wasn't going to sit there and beg and plead—no. He wasn't a child. He could take this-he knew he could. He'd taken twenty just earlier—four would be nothing. But somehow it hurt his chest to know that Peter didn't believe him. It hurt more than the sting in his hands would in just a moment—it hurt more than when Peter had dragged him up by the hair. He's so tired of me. If they really did get rescued, perhaps Peter would ultimately change his mind, and just leave Neal with Keller instead. He deserved it! If only he'd behaved, none of this would have happened in the first place. Who would even miss him? _Mozzie. Mozzie would miss me. What would Mozzie think of all this? He would probably be angry with Peter._ He shouldn't be, though. No, Peter was only doing what he was told to do. Neal was certain. And besides, he needed to be taught his place! He'd been lying, and stealing, and getting on Peter's nerves until now… _Maybe I do deserve this._

Peter couldn't resist reaching over to place a hand on one of Neal's upturned palms. He did this. He did this to his accomplice—his _friend._ If only he could take off that damn blindfold. Then, then Neal would see. He'd see Keller sitting quietly on a stool near the wall, watching to make sure all was going as he planned. He'd see the TV in the corner of the room with the surveillance on El, and now Mozzie as well since he'd gone over to see her. And he'd see the dried blood and tears on Peter's face, and the way the life had gone from his eyes. Peter wasn't feeling much of anything anymore. The guilt consumed him. And now, looking at Neal, it only made it all the more real. He hated it.

"Peter?" The silence was making Neal anxious. Being blindfolded, he had no indicator of when he was going to be hit, or even _if_ he was going to be hit—and that made it much worse.

"Tell me how many you'll be getting, Neal." Peter spoke, only after clearing his throat in an attempt to steady his voice.

"Four." Neal answered decidedly-he didn't even hesitate. "Two for lying about being on the furniture, and two for lying by saying I'd behaved." He'd stayed off the furniture, he really had! But if Peter had decided that he hadn't, what did it matter? These rules were quickly getting confusing and difficult to follow. Now he was lying… about having lied. How messed up was that?

Peter's heart broke just a little at the acceptance. _Fight back, damn you! Don't submit to this. You deserve so much better._ Part of him was relieved that Neal wasn't making this more difficult than it needed to be, but the other part hated just how easy he was making it.

"Six?" Neal tried again, when he heard no response to his previous answer. Maybe he'd forgotten something.

"No, no. Four will do just fine." Peter answered, quickly brought back from his thoughts. His breath caught in his throat when Neal shivered as he laid the folded piece of leather over his upturned palms.

Neal was eerily still through the quick punishment, his lips pressed together tightly throughout. After the fourth blow was delivered, Peter heard him mumble a quick, sincere apology as he rubbed his hands against his thighs to lessen the sting. God, he wanted nothing more than to drop down next to him and tell him that it was alright. _You haven't done anything wrong, Neal. God, I'm so sorry._

Neal felt a hand in his hair and leaned into the touch, under the assumption that Peter was comforting him. But what if he yanks me up by the hair again? It was worth it. After a moment, however, he realized that it wasn't Peter at all. "Hey, Neal. You did good." _Keller_.

"I'm sorry Peter has to do this, but _he_ feels it's the only way you learn. Seems like you're taking it pretty well. But… you know, Neal, if you wanted to work with me instead.. I wouldn't find all of this necessary. We'd be equals, just like old times. You go back with Peter? Oh, just imagine. You two keep this up, how humiliating will that be for you? Are you gonna kneel down in front of him and let him strap you in the middle of the White Collar division? Huh, Neal? Or—or at his house? You're gonna let him discipline you like a naughty child in front of his wife?"

Neal hadn't thought of all that at all. Would Peter really do that? He hadn't imagined this being something they would continue once they were out. What if Peter saw how well he behaved after his strappings and decided it would be good to carry on this way? Would Peter really strap him in the middle of the division? While they were on cases? Surely Peter would take him into his office for some privacy before he dealt with him! Would he let the others do it, too? What if he was made to let Jones, or Diana hit him? To lean down in front of them and accept his punishment? How humiliating! Keller was right about that, for sure.

If Peter decided that was what was needed, though, Neal supposed he would accept it, no matter how much he hated the idea. As far as he was concerned, going with Keller wasn't an option.

"I'll stay with Peter, if it's all the same to you." Neal answered, pulling back in order to get Keller's hand off his head. He wasn't sure how to expect Peter to react. Would he be upset? Did he want Neal gone, and off his hands? Surely he wouldn't be _too_ upset over Neal's decision. Nevertheless, he decided to offer out his hands in case Peter decided that anything he'd just done or said warranted punishment. Instead, however, he felt a hand in his hair again. This time, though, he was certain it was Peter's. He felt Peter move closer, and allowed himself to lean into the touch, resting his head against Peter's leg. He decided there was no danger in the touch, at least not now. He hadn't upset Peter, and the relief and exhaustion mixed together were just enough to cause him to start drifting off into a light sleep. It was short lived, however, because there was a loud bang as the door was thrown open.

"FBI! Don't move. Show me your hands!"

 **So what do you guys think?! I really enjoyed writing this chapter! (Once I finally got around to writing it, that is.) Please review friends! And happy Easter, if you celebrate it!**


	7. Diana

**Hi, friends! I hope all is well with all of you. I wanted you to know, I so appreciate all of the positive reviews! Please do keep it up :) also, I had one question about how many chapters I'm planning for there to be.. and to answer that… I'm honestly not sure! However many come to me, I suppose. Right now I'm just sort of trying to let the story flow on its own and see what happens.**

Neal glanced around frantically, startled by the sudden noise and commotion. Peter's hand left his head, and he could hear Keller arguing as he was slammed up against the wall and put into cuffs, he could hear cuffs clinking all around him. He placed his hands behind his back and waited to be cuffed, too.

"Peter! Are you alright?" Jones rushed to his boss, checking him over for any marks. He looked mostly alright, besides the dried blood that looked as though it had come from his nose. He was also sweating, and it looked as though he may have been crying earlier on.

"Jones." Peter breathed, "El. Is she—"

"Elizabeth is just fine." Jones assured him. "As far as we can tell, there wasn't ever a threat to her safety. We made sure to have people out there though, just in case."

Peter felt as though a weight had been lifted of his chest. _El. El is fine. But is Neal?_

Neal felt hands pulling him up, followed by his blindfold being undone. Small hands, soft hands. Diana.

"Neal, you're not under arrest." She assured him gently, attempting to pull his arm from behind his back. "Look at me. Are you okay?"

Neal blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light, trying to focus on what Diana was saying. She was asking him something, but he wasn't sure what. As he was able to re-focus his vision, Peter immediately caught his eye. "Peter?"

"Neal, god, I'm so sorry—" Peter stopped himself when he reached over to touch Neal's arm and Neal flinched back violently, eyes wide.

"Peter," Neal repeated, swallowing thickly. "Peter, I'm so sorry this happened."

Peter wished, more than anything, that he could know what was going on in Neal's head right at this moment. He was scared, that much was obvious by his jumpiness. he could hardly blame him, though. "Jones, cuff me." Peter ordered, placing both hands behind his back.

"What? Peter, what are you talking about? There's no reason to—"

"Now, Jones." Peter raised his voice the slightest bit, and regretted it immediately when he saw Neal's posture change, shifting nervously towards Diana, as if she would protect him if Peter suddenly lashed out. "Just do it." He said, a bit quieter this time, and added, "please."

Jones did as he was told, retrieving his handcuffs to put them on Peter, quite confused as to why he was being told to do so.

"Neal?" Peter started towards him again, a bit slower this time. "Neal, I want you to see that I can't hurt you. I won't, anyways. But now I _can't._ You see?" He would do anything to help Neal feel safe right now, and if wearing handcuffs in order to appear less threatening was what it took, so be it.

Neal glanced at Diana, and then back to Peter. How was Peter supposed to discipline him with those handcuffs on?! Maybe once they got outside, he would take them off. Or maybe Peter wasn't going to discipline him anymore. They were safe now, right? But Peter had seen just how well he'd behaved after being strapped! Why on earth would he choose to stop?

"Neal," Peter tried again, attempting to bring him back from his thoughts. Neal took that as a command, however, and knelt down in front of him obediently.

"No, no, not.. not _kneel_." _Damn._ Peter felt as though he may just throw up. Maybe he just needed to quit trying to talk with him for the time being.

Neal quickly stood, the look on his face giving away just how stressed out and confused he was. He was trying so hard to obey! Peter's commands were confusing him, though.

"Why don't we get you two outside, hm?" Diana offered, taking Neal's arm to guide him towards the door. She wasn't sure quite what had happened, but it was obvious how uncomfortable the both of them were. Neal seemed so anxious, so skittish, and Peter seemed.. well, exhausted. Emotionally and physically. And sad, too. She could tell that by his eyes. He looked utterly brokenhearted, and that made her heart ache for him.

Once they were outside, she couldn't help but notice how Neal kept glancing back at Peter, as if he was waiting for something to happen. Finally, she took his arm again, walking him around to the opposite side of the car. "Caffrey, what is wrong? What happened in there that's got you so spooked? Come on, talk to me."

"Peter figured out an effective way of getting me to listen to him." Neal was whispering, his tone sincere. "If he asks you to help him keep me in line, I think it's best that you do, Diana. Peter knows what's best for me."

Diana wasn't sure quite what she's been expecting to hear, but it sure as hell wsn't—whatever she's just heard. " _What?_ What are you talking about, Caffrey? What did he do to—to make you listen? What did Keller do to you both?"

Neal's eyes met with hers for a moment before glanced away, letting her know that he, in no way, wanted to challenge her. "Do I have to answer your question?"

Diana studied him, considering her options. She could tell him that yes, he did have to answer, but somehow she knew that in this fragile state he was in, that could only serve to do more damage. "No, you don't have answer. But if you decide later that you'd like to talk, I'm here to listen."

All she got in response to that was a quick nod before Neal ducked into the back seat of the car, where Peter was already sitting in the passenger's seat.

Diana wasn't sure what had gone on in there to make the pair act the way they were, but she's get to the bottom of it. In the end, it would all turn out alright, she hoped…

 **That chapter was difficult to write, for some reason! Hopefully the next will be a bit smoother, and maybe we'll get some El and Mozzie in next chapter, once the boys are home. Stay tuned, and _please_ do take time to review!**


	8. Hospital

"Where to?" Jones asked, starting up the car as Diana crawled into the back behind Neal. "Are we going to the bureau to file reports first?"

"No, to the hospital. Neal needs to go to the hospital I'll call El and see if she can meet us there." Peter couldn't force himself to look back at Neal. He hated, * _hated_ what he had done. How long would it take for Neal to trust him again? Glancing down at his phone, he dialed Elizabeth's number. Right now, more than anything, he needed to hear her voice.

Neal's head shot up at the mention of the hospital _._ He also noticed that Jones had removed Peter's handcuffs, but that didn't bother or scare him as much as he thought it would _. No, no, no!_ They would see what Peter had done to him, and then Peter would be in so much trouble! They might _actually_ arrest him. He could lie about how he'd gotten hurt, but then he'd be in trouble with Peter. Wouldn't it be worth it, though? Peter may get upset with him, but at least they wouldn't take Peter away. Peter didn't belong in prison. No, prison was for bad people. * _Like me._ He could hear Peter talking on the phone with Elizabeth, and heard Mozzie's name mentioned. Would he lie to Mozzie? No, he couldn't. But then, Mozzie would be angry at Peter for what he'd done. How could he explain it to him? Peter _had_ to do it. But how could he explain that Peter needed to continue doing it?

"Yea, hun. I'll see you real soon, then." Peter's voice was shaky. Neal didn't like how broken he sounded. He waited until Peter was off the phone before he spoke. "Peter?"

"Yes, Neal?" Peter turned to look at him. He looked like he was trying not to cry again. Neal hated to think he could be the reason for it. "Peter, I don't think going to the hospital is necessary.." He started, choosing his words carefully. "I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea about… what happened."

"I need you to go to the hospital, okay? For me. That's where you'll get the best care. And I want you to tell them what happened, okay? No lying to try and protect me. Deal?"

Neal nodded his head. Disagreeing with Peter didn't even cross his mind. _No lying!_ Oh, but what if Peter got in trouble? He could lie to them, and Peter didn't have to know. Neal remembered the rules **: _"_** _For each lie, I'm going to strap you twice. And for every time you steal, It'll be three."_ If he lied to Peter, though, and Peter did find out? _"If I find out you've done either and not come to me, I'll beat the shit out of you, and then I'll strap your hands."_

Surely Peter would understand if he did it to protect him! But… rules were rules, weren't they? He needed to follow them. Why was this so hard?

"Neal?" Diana's voice snapped him from his thoughts. "Neal, come on." She was trying to coax him from the back seat. Were they at the hospital already? Slowly, he crawled out behind her. We'll be in as soon as we park the car." Jones called back, before Diana pushed the door closed.

Neal followed her inside, and stood silently as she checked him in to the ER. "Diana?" He tried, as he followed her to the waiting room chairs.

"Yea, Caffrey?"

"I don't want Peter to go to prison. If I tell them what he did to me… are you going to arrest him?"

"No, Neal. Keller made him do—whatever he did to you. Nobody's going to be upset with him for that, okay? And Neal, nobody's upset with _you_ , either. Do you understand?"

Neal stopped, staring down at the chair. _Oh._ He'd almost forgotten he wasn't allowed on the furniture. It was a good thing he'd remembered, because Peter was just walking in.

"Neal Caffrey?" Neal startled at his name, turning to see who had said it. Apparently it was the nurse, who seemed to be waiting on him. He turned to glance at Peter, waiting to see what he needed to do.

"Go ahead." Peter encouraged him, keeping his distance. "Do you want me to come?"

Neal shook his head, wringing his hands anxiously. "I want you to come, just… a bit later?" Peter didn't need to see how much damage he'd done. And when they asked him who had done this to him, he needed to lie. And Peter couldn't be there for that.

"Do you want Diana to go with you?" Peter asked, keeping his voice soft. He hated to feel relieved, but he wasn't sure he could look at what he'd done to Neal without being sick.

Neal nodded, glancing towards Diana. "Will you?"

"You got it." Diana stood, going to follow Neal as he was led to the back.

The nurse guided them into an examination room, nodding towards the bed. "You may take a seat, mister Caffrey."

"I'd rather not, if that's alright." Neal played with the corner of the blanket between his fingers, attempting to distract himself. Imagine if Peter found out that he'd lied and gotten on the furniture, too!

"That's just fine, then. Now, do you think you can show me where your injuries are? Where are you hurting?"

Neal glanced back over his shoulder at Diana, taking in a breath. "Uh, my—my back. And.." He held out both hands, showing her his palms.

Taking one of his hands to get a better look, the nurse shook her head. "What happened to you? What caused this, honey? Who caused this? I'm going to need to see your back, too."

Neal began unbuttoning his shirt, doing his best to ignore her questions. If he didn't answer, that wasn't lying… right?

Allowing his shirt to slide off his shoulders, Neal discarded it onto the bed. He did his best not to shy away as the nurse ran her fingers over his back. "Who did this to you? Who is hurting you, dear?"

Diana was doing her best to keep a neutral face as Neal turned to look at her. She was trying so hard not to see the marks that ran down his back. She was sure she didn't want to see whatever the nurse had seen on his hands. "I did it to him." Diana said, meeting the nurse's eyes. This way, Neal didn't have to lie, and he didn't have to worry about Peter getting in trouble. "It was, um… something new to try in bed, you know? We're sort of into that kinky stuff, I guess you could say." She decided it had been worth it when she saw Neal's smile. He was trying hard not to laugh.

"Is that true?" The nurse asked him, looking skeptical.

"What can I say? I, uh.. I like it rough." Neal said, failing miserably at hiding his amusement.

"Well, I would recommend going easy next time, okay? This just seems… a little extreme." The nurse glared at Diana, heading to the door. "I'll be back with some supplies."

As soon as the door was shut, Neal turned to look at Diana again, his smile still there. "Diana.."

"No worries. You're welcome." Diana gave him a smile. Maybe everything would turn out alright after all, maybe.

 **So, two updates in one weekend. What?! Glad you all are enjoying it so far. You review, I update. It's a win for everyone ;) Sorry I didn't get to Mozzie and El this chapter. Next chapter, I promise!**


	9. James

**Alright friends, so I've gotten a few reviews saying the same general thing: Neal has too easily/quickly been convinced that Peter wants to hurt him, and that he's been broken too quickly. Looking back at the story, I have to agree and could see how the amount of time does not match up with the level of trauma… so I'm hoping this helps. Please let me know! Again, thank you for all of the reviews!**

 _"Follow the rules, Neal. If you'd just listen, you wouldn't get in trouble." James Bennett scolded his son, picking up pieces of the broken vase on the floor. "Imagine how upset your mother will be with you. You're three years old, you should know better by now. No running in the house."_

 _Grabbing his son by the collar of his shirt, James dragged him across the living room to the couch, sitting down and moving Neal to stand in front of him. "I've told you the rules, and you decided to break them. That makes you a bad boy."_

 _Little Neal sniffled, doing his best to pull away from his father. His breath smelled… bad. His breath always smelled that way when he drank the stuff that only Daddy was allowed to have… He didn't like it when Daddy drank that. It made him act mean. Maybe Daddy wouldn't be too mad if he could just be quiet while he was punished… If only he had not run! But, his toy train had gone under the table and when he ran after it he fell and hit the table… Daddy hadn't even checked to see if he was alright! Did it matter if he was? Daddy had told him not to run, and he had anyways. Just like last week, when he left the front door open, and a few days before that, when he knocked over the kitchen chair. He was bad. A bad boy. Would Daddy use his belt again? Neal hoped not. It hurt so badly. He deserved it, though!_

 _James held Neal's arm up, keeping him in one spot while he began spanking him. He didn't count—he'd know when Neal had enough. If the boy would just listen, he wouldn't have to keep doing this! It was like he never learned. Maybe that was just it—he wasn't giving him anything worth remembering. Releasing Neal's arm, he barely noticed as the little boy fell to the floor, crying quietly, whispering promises about being a good boy._

 _After slipping off his belt, James reached down to pull Neal back up, giving him a good shake. "Quit your crying! Everytime you cry and promise to follow the rules, and then you go and break them again! You're going to remember this time, I promise you." His voice was low, threatening. Neal turned again to try and wiggle away, but he couldn't move. When James spun him around to deliver the first blow with his belt, three-year-old Neal let out a scream…_

 **I realize this was short, but I hope it serves to get the point across… While perhaps grown Neal doesn't recall these memories from his childhood, the hurt and feelings of inadequacy are still there, living just below the surface, so what's happening could've so easily triggered something. Again, please review and let me know what you think. Thank you all again!**


	10. Mozzie

When El was told Peter and Neal were at the hospital, she and Mozzie couldn't get out the door fast enough. The agents there insisted on driving her, but she was certain she couldn't wait long enough for someone who was driving the speed limit to get them there. There may have been a few illegal turns, and a few red lights may have been run; by the time they arrived, Mozzie was clinging to the side of his seat just to keep from being tossed around. Nevertheless, they both made it to the hospital alive—and in record time, too. She practically jumped out of the car, not bothering to check and see if Mozzie was still behind her. Her heart was pounding, her hands shaking. She just needed to _see him_. To know he was alright… _Peter._ His face was bloody, and he looked utterly _exhausted._ But he was alright. Physically, he seemed just fine.

El attempted to say his name, but instead only a shaky breath of relief came out, and she could already feel the tears welling up in her eyes. Seconds after he spotted her, she was being scooped up into his arms. "El. Oh, god. El, you're alright." Peter sounded like he might start crying, too.

"Me? I wasn't the one in danger, Peter. You—"

"Keller. Keller said he—El, that's not what matters. You're not hurt, are you?"

El couldn't make herself do much more than shake her head. She couldn't find anymore words right now. Not that it mattered. Peter was * _here,_ and he was safe.

"Glad to see Mister and Misses Suit reunited."

El turned to glance back at Mozzie, allowing herself a weak laugh. "Mozzie, would you like to see Neal?" Where was Neal? Turning to glance back at Peter, she was surprised to see he wasn't meeting her eyes. "Peter? Where is he?"

"He's, uh. In the back. They're examining him, I think."

"Can we go see him?" El asked. She knew Mozzie was waiting to ask the same thing, but probably wasn't going to care whether he was told yes or no. He'd go find Neal with or without their help, she was certain.

"I think so." Neal had said he wanted Peter to come back there later on, hadn't he? He could just keep his distance. If he needed to, he could leave. He just wanted to show him it was alright. That he could be in the room and not hurt him. He could hear El and Mozzie talking as they walked down the hallway, peeking into each room to see if it was Neal's. He didn't hear much of what they were saying. All he really noticed was that El's hands still clung to his arm. He'd noticed if she let go. Why hadn't they asked a nurse where Neal was? Had they?

Then Mozzie opened a door, and there was Diana. There was Neal. Peter didn't say anything as they walked in. He was afraid to. He looked away as Mozzie went to embrace Neal, who leaned against the examination table. He noticed that El looked up at him, and Diana decided to check her phone at the same moment. Somehow, it seemed appropriate in that moment to allow the two a little privacy. Peter didn't miss how Neal's hands went back into his pockets as soon as Mozzie stepped back, however. By the look on Mozzie's face, neither had he, but he seemed know he should leave it alone for now.

"Peter?" Neal's voice broke the silence.

Peter stared at him, noticing how Neal's eyes met his, and then darted away, again and again. What could he say? _I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt you, I didn't mean to. Don't be afraid of me, please. You're my partner. You're my friend; my **best** friend. I hate myself for what I did to you, please don't hate me, too. _ It took Elizabeth tugging on his arm for him to realize that he hadn't actually responded at all.

"Yea, Neal?" He cleared his throat afterwards. That hadn't come out quite as clear as he'd hoped.

"Peter, do you think I could talk to you? Alone?"

Well, that hadn't been what he was expecting. Maybe just the opposite—he'd half expected Neal to ask him to leave.

"Well—I'm not leaving until I know Neal is safe." Mozzie announced, folding his arms. "I don't know what you two were put through, but its quite possible that either one of you—or both of you are not in your right mind now. So I'll be staying, thank you very much."

"Mozzie…" Peter saw Neal start to smile. _Oh, he smiled!_ That had to be a good sign!

"Mozzie, come on." El went to take his hand, though she herself was quite reluctant to leave Peter, even just to go in the hall. "Lets go see if we can get some snacks from the vending machine for Peter and Neal."

Diana stood, going to follow the two. "I'm gonna go catch up with Jones." She winked at Neal as she headed out, giving him a smile. She was sure the two of them needed this. It would be good for them, surely. They needed some time—at least a little—alone. They needed to talk through—well, whatever had happened.

When the door closed behind them, Peter distanced himself a bit more, doing his best to show Neal he wasn't a threat. That aching feeling in his chest had returned, and he was starting to find it difficult to come up with something appropriate to say. What he wanted, more than anything, was to show Neal how he wasn't going to hurt him. Not ever— _ever_ again. But what was the best way to do that? Thankfully, Neal spoke first. Peter did his best to hide the surprise on his face.

"I didn't tell Diana. I didn't tell her about what happened, and… and the nurse doesn't know either. I didn't lie, though. I don't want you to think—"

"No, stop." Peter took a step towards him and Neal glanced up, but made no move to distance himself. "I'm not going to—Neal, that was all a show. Every last bit of it. Keller—he was going to hurt El. That's the only—the _only_ reason—"

Neal was picking at one of his fingernails, his head down again. "You didn't get any relief out of it? Not at all?" He was pushing Peter. He was pushing him, and he _knew_ he was. It was a bad idea, after what they'd just been through. If Peter was going to lash out from stress, it would be now. Logic told him that, but he had to know. He had to. Peter wasn't a bad man, but back there… that had been a side of Peter Neal had never seen. If it had been anyone else, he wasn't sure he'd be so shaken over it. But Peter—no. Peter was gentle, Peter was rational, Peter was—well, he was Peter. There wasn't a single part of Neal that hated Peter for what he'd done, but that didn't mean it didn't startle him.

What Peter had done had been to protect Elizabeth. _You know that!_ But the other part of his brain—the part that also reminded him from time to time that he should still be in prison—that he _belonged_ there—also told him that Peter wanted to beat some obedience into him, and Keller had given him the perfect opportunity to do just that. It told him that he deserved it, too.

And why—what was it with the belt? Something about it made Neal feel like—like crying, like begging not to be hit. _Like a little boy_. No, that was nonsense. That was his brain playing tricks on him, wasn't it?

"Not at all." Peter answered him, and when Neal looked up, Peter was waiting to meet his gaze. "I hated every single minute of it, Neal. I can _honestly_ tell you that. And I hate—I hate myself for what I did. I do. But you have to understand, I had to protect El. There was absolutely no question about that."

"I know you did. I would've done the same thing, Peter. Honest."

Peter let out a small breath of relief at that. He didn't dare push his luck, however. He leaned back against the wall, putting his hands in his pockets. "You can sit down." He'd tried not to notice the way Neal had avoided the table and the chairs since they'd been there, but he was starting to realize how exhausted Neal must be. He felt like falling asleep standing up, he could only imagine how Neal friend felt.

 _This isn't a test. Stop it. Stop thinking like that._ Just because Neal was testing Peter and pushing his limits didn't mean Peter was testing him. If Peter said he could sit down, he could. Right? He just wanted things to go back to how they were before all of this happened. He didn't want to question everything about Peter. Peter was always, _always_ so good to him. He had to admit though, he did push his limits, he did try his patience. Had he finally pushed him over the edge? That was something he'd have to wait and find out…

 **Omg okay, so I finally got to Mozzie and El and I'm quite happy about it because I adore them. I do hope you all are enjoying this, please continue with the feedback! You guys are the reason I keep on writing!**


	11. Home

**Okay so I haven't updated in forever because my computer broke, and also I've been super busy and am just a terrible person. So, if the format is fucked it's because I'm writing this from my phone**. _So sorry, but... here you are!_ **Enjoy!**

Eluietly opened the door as she and Mozzie made their way back into the room. The first thing she noticed was Neal curled up on the hospital bed, passed out. She couldn't help a small smile. Then she noticed Peter across the room in one of the chairs. He looked asleep too, only his eyes were still open. Like he was somewhere far off. She moved closer before attempting to get his attention.

"Peter? Hun?"

Nothing. She reached over to place a hand on his leg, which seemed to finally get his attention. His eyes snapped up to hers, his expression softening. "Hi, hun."

"Hey. You alright?" El decided to sit down next to him, taking his hand in hers. "What's going on? Tell me what you're feeling."

Peter kept eye contact with his wife, pursing his lips. What did he tell her? He felt... he felt like shit for what he had done to Neal. He felt like he'd done what he had to go protect his wife. He felt like a monster. He felt guilty. He felt... _numb_.

"I'll be fine." _That_ _was_ _a lie_. "Probably just need some rest." _Lie_.

El sat down next to him, bringing her hand up to rub his back. "You know he's gonna be okay, don't you? I need you to be, too. Whatever- whatever happened in there, I need you to do whatever you need to to work through it. For me. For Neal. Okay?"

Peter heard some of it. Something about Neal being okay, something about him needing to be okay. Some stuff in between too, he thought. He wasn't sure though. What had he done? In his mind, all he could think about was the way Neal had looked at him... what had he done? How long would this damage Neal's trust in him, if not permanently? Surely not... even if Neal did forgive him, how could he forgive himself? Every time he looked at Neal, how could he not remember what he'd done? How could he not see Neal on the ground, waiting to be beaten? _What if... what if I let him take a swing at me? Do what he needed to get everything out?_

He could offer, but he doubted Neal would go for that. He was too gentle. Neal had always made it apparent that getting physical at all was going too far. It made Peter wonder if something in the past had happened that made him that way. He was gentle by nature, yes, but just... the way he always seemed to be _too_ careful not to get physical. It wasn't normal.

 _And now, what have I done?_

Maybe there was something... something that Neal would talk to him about, eventually. When... if they ever got past this. He lifted his head as he saw Neal starting to stir from the corner of his eye.

Neal opened his eyes, staying completely still. Where was he? _Keller_? Wait, no... they had been rescued, right? They were safe. But.. but he was in a bed. He wasn't supposed to be, was he? No.. Peter had told him it was alright. He was allowed to be here for now.

Starting to slowly move, Neal lifted his head just a little when he felt a hand in his hair. _No_! Peter said it was alright to be up here, but now he was about to be yanked up again. _Why would Peter_ _trick me like that?_

He closed his eyes again, tighter this time though. Would this ever be over? He waited, but the touch was soft, and the hand was small. When he finally managed to open his eyes again, he turned his head just enough to see Elizabeth. _Oh_. El was always so nice.

 _Where's Peter_? He lifted his head, looking over his shoulder to see him, feeling himself relax when he did. That surprised him. He should be more tense when he saw Peter, shouldn't he? No.. maybe he just needed to know that Peter was okay. And he seemed okay. Neal could see him and he was visibly alright... physically, anyways. His look was somewhere far off. Somewhere else.

"Peter?"

"Neal. Hey." Peter was back from wherever his mind was as soon as he heard Neal's voice. He wasn't sure if he should stand or not- he didn't want Neal to feel threatened.

"Hey. Hey, Neal." Peter kept his voice hushed, feeling a bit of hope when Neal started to push himself up. "Peter?"

Peter kept his distance, afraid of doing anything to frighten his friend. "Yea, Neal?"

"Can we go home?"

 **So... I'm so happy I finally took the time to do this! I hope you guys enjoyed. Please know I never plan** **to abandon this story or my loyal followers, it just may take a bit sometimes. Reviews are great.** **Hugs and kisses! xx**


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